


Room 117

by Squeegee_Beckenheim



Series: A One Shot a Month [5]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen, Sick!Frank, and gerard is really motherly and over protective, hospitals suck, i just think bob is like the greatest friend in the whole world for frank, little bit of shipping but like just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2535386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeegee_Beckenheim/pseuds/Squeegee_Beckenheim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“115, 116… 117!” He breathed out, racing over and stopping dead outside a plain, wooden door, the brass numbers 117 staring blankly back at him.<br/>Gerard took a deep breath, readying himself for the sight he hated most in the world. He pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room 117

Gerard was pulled rudely from his deep, dream filled sleep by the obnoxious buzzing of his cellphone on the bedside table. Gerard sighed and rubbed a clumsy hand over his face, recalling the vague dream he was interrupted from, something about battling a giant pigeon whilst on the back on a Chihuahua, that was roughly the size of a horse and being dressed like Peter Pan.  
“What the fuck?” Gerard croaked, shaking his head and reached blindly out, patting down his bedside table for the phone. He eventually found it, not without accidentally bumping his alarm clock off with an unnecessarily loud crash but Gerard didn’t care, the fucker had it coming. Gerard flipped the phone open and literally hissed from the physical assault the light from the small screen caused on Gerard’s sensitive, I-just-woke-up-and-my-screen-is-brighter-than-the-fucking-sun eyes.

Adjusting to the harsh glow of the display, Gerard open the one new message from Bob Bryar. Gerard was ready to call that mother fucker and yell at him for texting so late but he was curious as to what Bob thought so important that he needed to tell Gerard at 4am in the morning. Or, wait shit, at 12pm, his phone told him, the message being received four hours ago. The phones vibrations must have only just woken Gerard up. Shit, he hoped it wasn’t extremely important, maybe just, when was band practice this week, or I beat Frank at Halo again, the guy is hopeless.

Gerard squinted to make out the small lettering that read:

 

**Frankie’s sick again.**

**Room 117 @ Clara Maass MC**

**Bring Doom Patrol**

_Received: Today at 12:14AM_

_From: Big Bear Bryar_

****

Gerard sat bolt upright in bed, his sleepy state now replaced with one of worry and panic.

“Shit,” Gerard hissed, grabbing at his short, black hair which stuck up in all directions because of a serious case of bed hair.

He throw his blankets off with such force they all slipped off the mattress and landed in a heap at the bottom of the bed and Gerard rolled out, landing on his hands and knees in an extremely ungraceful way. He ferreted around amongst piles of clothes on his floor, pulling on the first two articles of clothing he could find, which consisted of a Star Wars hoodie and a pair of sweat pants with a weird yellow stain on the left leg, which Gerard wouldn’t notice until _after_ he had gotten in the car, oh well, no time to change.

He drove the 4 miles to the hospital several miles over the speed limit, but who cares, this was an emergency and people would have to be crazy to be on the road this early in the morning. Or just have a really sick best friend…

Gerard slammed the breaks so hard in the parking lot of Clara Maass Hospital he almost gave himself whiplash. He bounded from his black Beetle, clutching his keys in one hand and 5 of the latest issues of Doom Patrol in the other. He raced through reception, getting the all clear from a nurse who looked like the only thing keeping her alive right now was the hope for more coffee on her next break. Gerard felt sorry for anyone who worked night shifts.

Gerard leapt up the stairs two at a time, racing through identical white, florescent lit hallways, counting door numbers as he went.

“115, 116… 117!” He breathed out, racing over and stopping dead outside a plain, wooden door, the brass numbers 117 staring blankly back at him.

Gerard took a deep breath, readying himself for the sight he hated most in the world. He pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside.

 **_*_** ****

Gerard felt a small smile creep across his face in spite of the painful squeezing of his heart at the sight of Frank, who always looked so tiny and fragile amongst the starchy white sheets of hospital beds. Frank’s eyes were closed and a oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth to ensure his lungs would keep doing their job. One of his thin, tattooed hands clutched at the neck of his hospital gown as he slept, and the other was stretched out a bit toward the side of the bed, where is was covered by a much larger hand, belonging to a snoring Bob Byrar, who was sitting in a plastic chair, pulled up bedside the bed and he was slumped over, blonde fringe sprawled out on the mattress near Frank’s shoulder.

The sight calmed Gerard’s panicky heart beat a little and he let out a relieved breath. At least he wasn’t alone, Bob would never leave Frank to rot away in a hospital bed alone, even after the nurses had kicked him out three times last time Frank had gotten pneumonia.

Gerard stood back, watching the two sleep for a little while, listening to Frank’s shaky, shallow breaths in between Bob’s deep, snoring ones. Gerard eventually walked over beside Bob and put a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake.

Bob’s big blue eyes open and when they focused on Gerard, Bob smiled, lifting his head and tilting his neck from side to side, removing all the cricks with horrible clunking noises.

“Took your sweet ass time, fucker,” Bob slurred drowsily, using his free hand to card through his fringe and over his face.

“Sorry man, didn’t hear my phone go off until like 10 minutes ago,” Gerard said guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck.

“S’cool, I’m just glad you’re here now,” Bob said, sincereness in his voice as he look down at his hand, wrapped around Frank’s small calloused fingers, still slightly blue from lack of oxygen.

Gerard heart squeezed painfully again and he had to look down at the sterile white linoleum and close his eyes for a second or two. He only open his eyes again when he felt Bob’s hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?” Bob asked, squeezing gently on his shoulder and shooting him a worried look.

“Yeah, I just…” Gerard exhaled deeply, “I’ll just never get used to this sight. Man, it’s so fucking unfair. Give the guy a break.”

“Don’t worry, dude. He’ll pull through, he always does. He’s one stubborn son of a bitch,” Bob said, a small grin etched on his tired face.

“Yeah…” Gerard said again quietly, before shaking himself off, “anyway, you should go home and get some sleep, you’ve been here all night. I can take over from here.”

“No way, I’m fine,” Bob grunted stubbornly, despite the fact that he yawns straight afterwards and he has dark bags under his bright eyes.

Gerard put his hands on his hips, putting on his best motherly face and said Bob’s name as bossily as possible.

“No, fucker,” Bob cut him off, shaking his hair in a blur of blonde bangs, “as long as Frank’s stuck in this hospital, so am I.”

Gerard sighed and dropped his defensive stance and nodded at the floor.

“Fine, but at least go and get something to eat from a vending machine on the first floor. Here,” Gerard sighed, pulling a crumpled 20 dollar bill that he found after pocketing his keys in the car park out of the pocket of his sweat pants and holding it out for Bob.

Bob looked like he was about to argue, but then he though better of it and sighed, smiling despite himself.

“Okay, _mama Gerard,_ ” Bob chuckled.

Before standing up, Bob gave Frank one last, sad look and squeezed his hand ever so slightly, whispering, “See you soon, Frankie.”

Gerard watched Bob leave, stretching his arms out, then turning and ruffling Gerard’s bed hair with a smile, before walking out the room and closing the door behind him. Once he was gone, Gerard felt loss of presence immediately. The room as suddenly painfully quiet and empty, the only sound being Frank’s wheezed breaths and the beep of machines. Gerard heart ached at the sight and he sat down in Bob’s recently abandoned seat, dropping the forgotten comics on the ground beside him and replace the space where Bob’s hand had been with his own. The only warmth in Frank’s hand was left there from the god knows how long Bob had been holding it and Gerard had to close his eyes and count to ten because he vision was starting to blur.

“Oh, Frank…” Gerard sighed, rubbing his thumb over the cold skin between Frank’s thumb and forefinger, tracing the lines of the spider web tattooed there with the word Hopeless arching beside it.

 **_*_**  

Gerard sat like that for a forgotten time, too troubled to sleep, staring down at Frank’s fragile hand, occasionally looking up to check if he was still asleep, but he tried not to do that too often because the sight of Frank made Gerard stomach tie in knots. Frank’s skin was pale, sweaty and he had dark rings edging his eyes, the gas mask cover his chapped lips and his brow was furrowed in a pained expression that Gerard couldn’t bare to see him with. He was roused from an internal debate about who would win in a fight between Deadpool and Venom by the Frank gasping suddenly, his hand jerking out of Gerard grip to grab at his own chest, a horrible, bone rattling cough ripping through his shitty lungs. Gerard sat up, eyes as wide as Frank’s, which where now open and watering as he barked violently. Gerard put a hand on Frank shaking shoulder blades and rubbed gently, feeling useless. Eventually, Frank stopped coughing and his normal, wheezy breaths returned. He pulled his gas mask slightly with a shaking hand and leaned over the other side of the bed, spitting gobs of yellowy green phlegm that made Gerard wrinkle his nose in disgust at, into a bed pan. He turned back, his chest heaving with each breath and his forehead glistening with sweat, but when he saw Gerard sitting beside him, concern all over his face, Frank’s tired, watery eyes brightened a little.

“Hey… Gee,” he croaked between breaths, the weakest smile ghosting over his cracked lips.

“Shh, don’t speak, Frankie, just rest,” Gerard said, pulling Frank’s mask back down to cover his mouth and brushing stray strand of short, black hair off Frank’s sweaty forehead.

“Okay… Mama Gerard,” wheezed Frank, his smile a bit stronger now.

Gerard let out a breathy laugh and shook his head, looking down.

“You know what? Bob called me the exact same thing,” Gerard smiled.

“What… you make… him do?” Frank asked.

“Made him go and eat something. Gave him money and everything,” Gerard laughed.

“Course… you did,” Frank let out a shaky laugh and Gerard worried that it might set him off again, but it didn’t.

“You just…” Gerard started, sighing heavily, “You scare us every time you get like this, Frankie.”

Gerard reached out and took Frank’s hand again, intertwining their finger this time, feeling Frank’s cold, clammy palm again his own. Frank tried to smile, but it was sad and frail.

“I know… I’m sorry… Gee,” Frank breathed, closing his eyes and wincing slightly as he inhaled.

“Shh…” Gerard hushed again and brought his free hand up to run a thumb over Frank’s fever flushed cheeks, burning hot compared to his ice cold hands. “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay Frank. You just need to rest,” he reassured.

“‘Kay, Gee,” Frank nodded and turned his head so it was resting fully on the pillow again, closing his eyes.

Gerard leaned over carefully, free hand resting on Frank’s shoulder and kissed Frank ever so gently on the cheek, his skin hot against Gerard’s lips.

“Get well soon, Frank,” He whispered in his ear, squeezing his hand lightly, before settling back down in his chair and picking up an issue of Doom Patrol, scanning over the bight illustrations until his eyelids wouldn’t stay the fuck open and he fell asleep, face buried amongst the world of superheroes.

 **_*_** ****

When Gerard woke up, Bob was sitting on the other side of the bed, flipping through a comic, Ray was sitting cross legged on the floor completely engrossed in an intense game of cards, and Mikey was sitting next to Gerard, also with a comic in hand and the added luxury of sipping coffee out of a travel mug.

“Mikey,” Gerard whined, lifting his head off the glossy page he was using as a pillow, which stuck to him for a few seconds before falling off with a rustle back onto the bed.

His brother handed the mug without even lifting his eyes from the page, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Thank you,” Gerard managed after burning his tongue as he took large mouthfuls on the bitter beverage.

“How’s he doing, Bob?” Gerard asked, turning his head to face him.

Bob sighed but he was smiling, which was a good sign. “The nurse came in and gave him something and his breathing got so much better. And he’s stopped coughing up that pond slime shit from his lungs as often. They think he’ll be out in a couple of days.”

Gerard broke in to the biggest smile he could manage after just waking up, dropping his head onto the bed in sheer relief. He felt Mikey’s hand on the back of his head, ruffling his already messy hair with his long fingers.

“He did it again, Gee,” Mikey said, his fingers stroking comfortingly through Gerard’s black mop.

“He did it again,” Gerard repeated, his eyes blurring and he had to wipe his hoodie over his cheeks before anyone saw.

**_*_ **

They spent the rest of the day camped out in room 117 of Clara Maass Medical Clinic, passing around vending machine packets of jelly beans and copies of comics (Mikey had brought like 50, god bless him) and playing endless tournaments of Bullshit with Ray’s cards. Frank woke up about midday and they all took turns talking about nothing and laughing at everything until they almost forgot why there were there in the first place. When the nurse came to kick them all out that night, Gerard was beside Frank in his bed, leaning on his shoulder and reading him a copy of Spiderman. Ray was asleep against the wall, his wild mop of hair covering his face as he snored quietly. Bob was sitting in the chair he had been sitting in when Gerard arrived, head resting against one hand, sleeping peacefully. His other arm was wrapped around Mikey, who was practically curled up in Bob’s lap, his glasses crooked on his face as he slept.

Bob put up the biggest fuss when it came to leaving but Ray talked him into going home with some difficulty and bribes of Mario Kart. Gerard was the last to leave, gathering up comics while Mikey went for one more coffee refill before home, even though hospital coffee tasted like it had been brewed three weeks ago. Gerard turned to Frank once he had everything, his breath more even than it was, his face with a bit more colour. Gerard leaned over and kissed his forehead, closing his eyes and letting his lips linger on the warm skin.

“Love you too, Gee,” Frank huffed suddenly and Gerard jumped, dropping the comics again, because he thought Frank was sleeping, that sneaky fuck.

“Jesus, Frank, you scared the shit out of me,” Gerard blushed, gathering up the comics for the second time.

“Good,” Frank laughed, “Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Whatever, asshole,” Gerard laughed, leaning down and kissing Frank’s oxygen mask, “Go back to sleep.”

At this, Frank just flips Gerard off, but he’s smiling like an idiot and Gerard’s wearing a matching grin.

**_*_**

As Gerard navigates the corridors, the smile didn’t leave his face, he felt almost giddy as he clutched the comics in his hands. Gerard had realised that day, in a quiet moment when Gerard was pawing through the pages of Doom Patrol, that no matter how many comics he read, no matter how many super hero movies he watched, he would never find a hero stronger than the small, black haired tattooed boy sleeping alone in room 117. His hero, his best friend, his little Frank.


End file.
